


Needles

by klainefics24



Series: Married!Klaine [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Comfort, Doctor - Freeform, Fluff, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Klaine, M/M, Needlephobia, TW: Medical, Talk of futuredads!klaine, The same sappy stuff you should have come to expect from me lmao, married!klaine, no graphic descriptions though!, poor Kurt :(, tw: needles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:41:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24821770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klainefics24/pseuds/klainefics24
Summary: Kurt has injured himself and has to get a tetanus booster... Which would be fine, if he wasn't so deathly afraid of injections. Luckily, he has Blaine there to comfort him.Mentions future dads!klaine, too! Lots and lots of sweet fluff (mostly because I feel bad for torturing poor Kurt here lol)
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Series: Married!Klaine [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795405
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	Needles

**Author's Note:**

> They say to write what you know, so as a massive needlephobe I had a lot to say when it came to describing how nervous Kurt feels lmao. I haven't included any graphic descriptions here, because they make me feel sick too, but the actual injection process IS mentioned briefly. Hopefully, this shouldn't squick anybody out too badly, but just in case I've put in bold the beginning and end of the paragraph as a warning for what's coming.
> 
> The scene begins with "Ah, ah, look at me." and ends with "There you go, sugar, all finished."
> 
> <3

“I just really don’t see why this is necessary, I was doing some research and did you know the relative risk of _actually_ contracting tetanus from an injury like this is really small?”

“Kurt…”

“No, seriously, Blaine- _miniscule_. If anything, I’d be better off without it.”

“Kurt.”

“There’s a serious shortage of these things for the people who actually need them, Bee. People who slice themselves on rusty nails, or barbed wire fencing, or- or that weird, spiky stuff they put on roofs to stop birds making nests above shop windows,-”

Blaine placed a gentle hand on his husband’s shoulder, silencing his rambling. “ _Kurt._ I know you don’t want to go to the doctor, but this is important. That was a pretty nasty cut, and you’ll be sorry if you wind up sick and have to take a week off of work to recover.”

Kurt slumped back in defeat, allowing himself to be jostled and bumped as the train came to a halt. _Only four more stops before they had to get off. Four more stops before they arrived at the doctor’s office. Four more stops before he had to let some stranger stick him with a giant needle._

“I’d take a week off of work over this any day…” He grumbled, glaring at an ancient, trodden piece of gum on the floor.

Blaine sighed, finding Kurt’s good hand and entwining their fingers. “No you wouldn’t, babe.”

Kurt knew he was right. He’d lose his marbles trying to catch up on all of the pending reports, meetings, and emails that would be waiting for him if he actually caught tetanus. Usually, he prided himself on his ability to remain calm and collected in stressful situations, but this was the one thing he couldn’t handle. All it took was somebody bringing up needles in conversation for his vision to blur as the phantom sensation of that pinching feeling in his upper arms made him dizzy with nausea. It only grew more embarrassing with age, too. When he was a little kid and his parents took him to get his pre-school shots, it was perfectly fine for him to want to climb into his mother’s lap, burying his face in her shoulder so he could muffle his tears. Unfortunately, it became a little less socially acceptable to do the same with his father by the time he turned 16. 

It had been years since his last needle; he had managed to evade the need for bloodwork and dodge his yearly flu vaccine thus far- until a freak accident involving him changing a very old, tarnished lightbulb whilst balancing precariously on the arm of their sofa. Thankfully, his fall was cushioned, but he seized the lightbulb so tightly on his way down that it had shattered and the oxidised filament tore a scratch right down the palm of his hand. 

Kurt assured him it didn’t hurt (it did), but Blaine dragged him to the ER regardless, practically carrying him over his shoulder into triage where the nurse told him he got lucky and that it was _just_ shy of needing stitches. She sent him on his way with three spare rolls of bandage and the promise that he would come back to the clinic that weekend for a tetanus vaccine.

He escaped then, but not now. Blaine wouldn’t let him slip away from this one.

“Oh, look, it’s our stop.”

Kurt jumped, his heart pounding. Had he really spent so long stuck in thought that they’d already arrived? _Oh, god, he should have been using this time to psych himself up, not freak out even more…_

Blaine noticed the way he had suddenly blanched, his cheeks devoid of their usual rosy hue. He made a sympathetic clucking noise, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Come on, Kurt. If you do this, I’ll buy you cheesecake. A whole one. And we can eat it in bed whilst watching _Next In Fashion_.”

Kurt folded his arms over his chest, scowling. “... Fine.”

Blaine pressed a kiss to his temple. He willed himself not to tremble as he let Blaine stand him up and walk them up the subway stairs. The clinic, unfortunately, was only a few blocks away from the entrance, so even with the fresh air and Blaine’s light chatter to distract him, he didn’t feel any more at ease.

Upon their arrival, they were greeted by a friendly receptionist who handed them a clipboard and directed them to the waiting room. Blaine knew Kurt’s nerves were too shot for him to sit and fill in his forms, so he did them himself. He kept his left hand still firmly snuggled into the dip of his side, tracing slow circles. Mostly to comfort him, but also to make sure he didn’t run away.

Kurt chewed his bottom lip, his eyes dancing around to look for something that he could focus on other than the horrible, thick feeling of dread that was settling in his lower gut. There were two children, possibly siblings, sat on a patterned rug across the room, whispering the rules of the made-up game they were playing with the _Barbies_ they had found in the toy box. Holding them up by their arms, they made them twirl and dance across the floor, giggling happily. Blaine nudged Kurt, turning his head to look at him with twinkling eyes.

“Do you think ours will get on with each other like that?”

For the first time since yesterday morning, the corners of Kurt’s mouth twitched up into a smile. Now that Blaine had made himself well-known in the local community of theatre directors, and Kurt had been promoted to Senior Web Editor at _Vogue_ , they were finally financially secure enough to start talking about the possibility of children. Kurt knew he wanted at least two, but Blaine was pushing for three. Last week, he came home from visiting Rachel with a stack of her old baby magazines, and the pair of them spent hours sitting together, cooing at pictures of cribs and rocking chairs and tiny, _tiny_ clothes. Kurt couldn’t wait to pull some strings in the wardrobe department and score their kids the latest designer infantwear. But, more than anything, he couldn’t wait to start a family with Blaine.

“I hope so.” He said. “I was an only child, though, so it might be in their genes to be a little diva-ish.”

Blaine chuckled as Kurt rested his head in the crook of his neck. “I don’t care if they’re brats. They could be _Supernanny_ material and I wouldn’t care. Because they’d be ours, so I’d love them.”

“Me too. Not that we have to worry about that, because you’d teach them your impeccable, debonair, private school-boy manners…”

Grinning dopily, Blaine felt the same lovely warmth spread through his chest that he always did when they imagined themselves as parents. “I’m glad to know one of us will be there to make reparations whilst the other leads them astray…” He teased, nuzzling his nose into Kurt’s silky hair.

Kurt felt a lot lighter, basking in pleasant daydreams of talcum powder and moses baskets. That was all shattered in an instant when the practitioner came suddenly from around the corner, scanning the waiting room.

“Mr. Hummel-Anderson?”

His eyes widened and his heart dropped to the floor. Any previous traces of inner serenity disappeared, replaced by the bulky, sick feeling that had been griping at his stomach for the last 24 hours.

“That’s us.” Blaine confirmed, standing and offering his hand to Kurt before he tried to make a dash. He begrudgingly took it and followed the doctor through to her office.

“Hi there, my name is Dr. Scheller, I’ll be taking care of you today.” She held open the door, leading them into an unwelcomingly cold, sterile room. “If you want to take a seat on the examination table, I’ll come and take a look at that hand of yours.”

Kurt perched on the edge of the bed, bouncing his leg, a nervous habit he had never managed to break. He wrapped his hand around Blaine’s when it came to rest on his knee from where he sat adjacent, glancing over to give him a little look when he felt him pat his leg soothingly. _He could do this. He was a grown man, and grown men didn’t make a big deal of a routine doctor’s appointment._

The doctor pushed her swivel chair over towards them, setting a tray of instruments on her desk. Kurt’s eyes visibly widened as he looked over and saw them.

“You don’t need to be nervous,” She said, smiling reassuringly. “I’ll work as quickly as I can so you can be on your way soon.”

Snipping along the length of his bandages, she carefully unwrapped them and examined the injury- commenting on how nicely it seemed to be healing. Kurt nodded, trying his best to appear interested in regaining the use of his dominant hand, even though he was really trying his best not to see stars as he thought about what was coming. He tightened his grip on Blaine’s hand and hissed when she dabbed the cut with iodine.

“Sorry, I know that stings a little.” She winced, finishing up. “That’s just to make sure it doesn’t get infected. Otherwise, things are looking much better. It shouldn’t leave a scar.”

“That’s good news.” Blaine chimed in when Kurt remained wordless, shuffling his chair a little closer to the table. He was starting to feel kind of guilty, forcing Kurt to come here and do something that was clearly making him very uncomfortable, but then he reminded himself that a healthy husband was much better than a sick one.

“Right,” Dr. Scheller peeled off her gloves, balling them up to be thrown away. “That’s my work done. I’ll have one of our nurses come in and give you your tetanus vaccine, and then you’re free to go.” She smiled.

Blaine thanked her as she left the room to go and get a nurse. Kurt paled, a small whimper escaping his lips, making him look and sound pitifully childish. Blaine stood and moved to sit next to him on the bed, looping an arm around his waist to hold him close.

“Shhh, hey, you’re going to be alright,” He let his hand settle on Kurt’s hip, squeezing comfortingly. “It’ll be over before you know it, and then I’ll take you back home.”

“I can’t do it, Blaine, I can’t-,” Kurt sniffled, his heartbeat doubling as he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. “I’m gonna pass out. Or throw up. Or _both._ ”

“No, you’re not. I’ve got you.” Blaine ran his fingers through Kurt’s hair. “Deep breaths; remember all of those yoga classes? In…” He inhaled deeply, feeling Kurt’s chest press flush to his side as he did the same. “And out…”

They made it through two more rounds of steady breathing before they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Kurt tensed up again when he saw a young, bubbly nurse enter, carrying a small cardboard tray.

“Hi, you must be Kurt? I’m Jenna.”

Kurt, giving up on retaining any of the small amount of dignity he had left, simply groaned and buried his head in Blaine’s shoulder.

“Oh, dear. You’re afraid of needles?” She asked, setting her equipment out of sight and fiddling with the small, brown bottle containing the suspension.

“He’s just a little nervous, that’s all.” Blaine threaded his fingers through Kurt’s. “Can I stay here with him?”

“Sure you can, hon. Maybe you can help distract him for me? We need him to be nice and relaxed.”

Kurt shivered as she rolled up his sleeve, clinging even tighter to his husband’s arm. Blaine wracked his brain for something- _anything_ \- to get him to calm down.

“What do you want to name them?”

Kurt furrowed his brow. “Name who?”

Blaine chuckled. “Our _kids_ , silly. We haven’t discussed it yet, but you can’t tell me you don’t have anything in mind. What are your favourite baby names?”

Flinching at the sudden coolness as she wiped down his arm, Kurt fought to sit still. “I, um, I don’t know- I guess I’ve always liked the- the more traditional names?” He looked to his left and saw Jenna filling the syringe. “Oh _god_ , it’s huge…”

**“Ah, ah, look at me.”** Blaine gently cupped his cheek and turned his head back. “Traditional names, huh? Like what?”

“I-I’ve always liked, uh, old-fashioned British names for girls? You know, st-stuff like ‘Elizabeth’?”

“Oooo, how regal.”

“And, um, ‘Pippa’...”

“So that we can read her ‘Pippi Longstocking’?”

“Yeah, yeah, that would be cute. I know flower names were out of style by, like, the 60’s, b-but I also like ‘Lily’ and ‘Poppy’...”

Blaine hummed. “They’re sweet, I don’t care about them being trendy. What else?”

“I really like ‘Imogen’’, as well, no real reaso-” Kurt was cut off by a pained squeal as she pierced the skin, the icy numb feeling spreading up his arm.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Blaine whispered, his chest tightening when he heard Kurt hiccup and felt warm, wet tears seeping through his shirt to his collarbone. “It’s nearly done. You’re so brave.”

Kurt felt _far_ from brave, 27 years old and crying into his husband’s shoulder at the doctor’s office, but by this point he was past caring. Jenna finally removed the needle, having him hold a cotton ball to the wound whilst she dug around in her pocket for a band-aid.

**“There you go, sugar, all finished.”** She smoothed the plaster down as delicately as she could. “It shouldn’t hurt for too long. You can take a couple Tylenol once you get home, if it’s still bothering you then.” He just sniffs, his eyes red and puffy.

“I’ll keep an eye on him…” Blaine said, scooping up Kurt’s coat and wiping away a stray tear using the pad of his thumb. “Thank you, Jenna.”

“No problem, boys. Have a nice day, and good luck with all of the baby business.” She winks.

Kurt manages a small smile at that, standing on still-shaky legs as they made their way out of the building.

-

An hour later, they were both curled up in front of the TV under a pile of knitted blankets, digging forks into a strawberry cheesecake directly from the packaging. Just as Blaine had promised.

“Does it still hurt?”

Kurt lifted his shoulder, his forehead scrunching at the dull ache. “A little…” He sighed, leaning into Blaine. “I’m sorry for being such a wimp.”

Blaine rolled his eyes, tilting his head fondly. “You are _not_ a wimp. C’mere.” He set down his fork and patted his lap. Kurt obediently scooched closer, laying across his husband’s knees, letting his eyes slip shut. “It’s okay. Everyone is scared of something.”

“I guess so… It’s just a silly thing to still be afraid of. Especially as an adult.”

“It’s really not. I know plenty of people who don’t like needles.”

“Yeah, and how many of them are under the age of 12?”

Blaine brushed back a loose strand of his hair from his forehead, admiring the delicate slope of his side profile. “Well, I’m not going to judge you for it. I’ll always be here to hold your hand if you’re scared. Even when we’re wrinkly, old men.”

Kurt smiled, fluttering one eye open. “Hopefully by then we’ll be wrinkly, old _grandparents._ ”

Blaine beamed, his cheeks flushing pink as he stared down with the dopiest smile on his face. Kurt narrowed his eyes playfully.

“What?”

“Nothing. Nothing…” Blaine shook his head. “... I just can’t wait to have children with _you_.”

The dreamy look on his face was just too cute to ignore, so Kurt shuffled to sit up and press a sweet kiss to his lips, not even minding when his arm throbbed as he lifted it to settle around the back of Blaine’s neck and melt into his embrace. Six years into marriage, and he still swooned everytime they kissed, falling for that charming young boy on the Dalton staircase again and again...

He pulled away after a minute, now matching the flushed, lovesick look on his husband’s face. “Neither can I, Bee. I’ve got one little prerequisite for you, though.” 

“Mm?”

Kurt smirked. “You’re taking them to get their shots.”

Blaine laughed, pecking a final, strawberry-scented kiss to the tip of his nose.

“I figured as much.”


End file.
